


Penholder

by wingedwitch



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedwitch/pseuds/wingedwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark writes his own destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penholder

For the longest time, the only thing she thought she could bring him was misery. At best, she was a distraction, someone who pulled him away from what she knew he was meant to be. At worst, she was the one who would always let him down, who would never measure up in any way to his ideals or expectations. Both of them desperately wanted someone to share their lives with, and as much as she never wanted to say it, neither of them could find that in the other.

So she left. Not in such a drastic way as she had before, but to a city not so far away to pick up the pieces of her charity and move forward. ISIS became her focus and her purpose, and the well-being of Metropolis became his.

Their paths crossed now and again. Most times she could barely look at him without that tight ache in her chest that made every breath difficult. The pain dulled over the years, so much that she didn't notice it was there until a lull in their conversation found her staring into his eyes and realizing any feelings he'd had for her had likely passed out of existence.

One winter night during their semi-weekly coffee, that lull brought something else entirely. They were sitting on her couch in front of the fire, and she had decided to fill the silence by taking a big gulp from her cup to distract her from the warm, charming grin on his face.

"I'm really proud of you, Lana."

The words caught her off guard. She didn't even know how to respond other than to sit there with her mouth hanging open before chuckling softly at herself.

"What?"

She shook her head. "I just never expected you to say anything like that."

"Why not?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Look at everything you've done for the metahuman community. Not only are you providing support to those who need it, but you're changing the way people view people with abilities."

"Clark, I think you're having a lot more impact on the way people think than I am."

His lips turned up again. "That doesn't mean you aren't."

She was back to that stunned stare, but it didn't last as long this time. "Thank you," she said softly.

They looked back at each other for a long moment before she felt his fingers lace through her hair and her eyes fluttered shut in response. He hadn't touched her this way in a long time. Before she knew it, he had pressed his lips against hers, and despite her best efforts at control, she found herself leaning into it. As he attempted to deepen the kiss, however, she pulled away.

"Clark, we can't. We've been over this. We're just not meant to be together."

"Weren't you the one who told me we write our own destinies?"

She shook her head, not looking at him. "But we've tried. We've tried so many times and it never works. What makes you think this time will be different?"

She felt her cup leave her hands as he placed their coffee on the nearby table.

"Lana, look at me."

She did as he asked, waiting for him to continue, and for some reason she still didn't understand, hoping he had a good answer.

"I think for a long time we both had this idea of who each other were set in our minds that we fell in love with. Then when the reality hit..." The sentence trailed off before he sighed, moving on to his point. "That's changed now." He took her hand in his. "I know who you are now. I love who you are. I guess what I hope is you feel the same way."

She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. "Clark...I'm scared."

"Don't be."

She kept talking, trying desperately not to shake or break down. "I'm afraid we're going to start this again, and it's just going to fall apart, and me along with it."

He shook his head. "You won't. You're strong, Lana. You could handle it." He touched his free hand to her cheek. "Please. If you love me...just one more chance."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to resist, but she couldn't. A tear slid down her cheek as she leaned in to kiss him again. Clark wiped it away, and the one after before pulling her into himself, holding tight as he stood. He carried her to her bedroom where they spent the night and where she woke the next morning to that same warm grin.

She scrunched her nose at the sight. "Haven't we been here before?"

"Something like it. Fresh coffee?"

She chuckled as she remembered two cups still sitting by the sofa. "Fresh coffee."


End file.
